Chapter 134

Why is it that words poised on the tip of one's tongue sometimes prove so impossible to speak?

Yes, she did not want to tell Qing Zhouxue.

Not one bit.

If she told Qing'er about Yu Ying's scheme, she would inevitably be asked about the Xu family affair.

How could she even begin to speak of it?

Could she say that out of her own selfish motives, she had mercilessly slaughtered an entire family, sparing none—not the old, the weak, the sick, or the disabled? Or that she had conspired with the Demon Race to tear a cultivation sect apart?

Worse still, would she have to confess—that she, Yun Shuchen, was exactly this sort of person, and after five hundred years of sediment, she still harbored no remorse?

In front of someone she deemed pure and untainted, this confession was tantamount to self-torture.

She quietly drank in the river breeze; the moonlight in the lake cast a faint shimmer in her eyes.

Qing Zhouxue watched her for a long moment and finally rolled over. "Actually, I know far more than you think."

Yun Shuchen's hand paused. Startled, she listened as her disciple's voice came softly, enumerating: "About the Xu family's affair back then, and your dealings with the Demon Realm—even some matters concerning the Liuyun Sect."

Qing Zhouxue suddenly felt her body stiffen; in that instant, her breathing became so faint it was nearly inaudible. The hand that had been stroking her face came to an abrupt halt.

"Mm." Yun Shuchen lowered her eyes and gave a barely discernible hum.

"Master."

This call of "Master" was nearly a sigh as it escaped Qing Zhouxue.

"Enough. If you don't wish to speak, I won't force you." Qing Zhouxue sat up and moved a little farther away. Her tone remained as flat as ever, betraying neither joy nor anger, as if she had truly brushed the matter aside.

"Given this stain on my record, I suppose I needn't think about participating in the Immortal Ascension Assembly?"

She leaned against the bow, taking out the Qingshuang Sword, and meticulously polished the blade using the cold river water late at night.

Yun Shuchen was still distracted and did not answer.

"Since Master's illness has recovered, whether I go or not seems hardly important now. The Sect Leader probably has other arrangements."

"...No." Yun Shuchen snapped back to reality, her fingers tightening as she grasped Qing Zhouxue's wrist. "For a time, I truly didn't want you to go. But now it's different. If you want to clear your name, the Immortal Ascension Assembly is the best opportunity. This time, you absolutely must go."

Qing Zhouxue's hand stopped, pressing against the three-foot sword blade. The bright, clear metal reflected half of her pale, beautiful profile.

She sheathed the Qingshuang Sword, on which hung the sword tassel Yun Shuchen had made. Qing Zhouxue habitually wound it around her wrist.

"If you think I should go, then I'll go."

Suddenly, Qing Zhouxue removed Yun Shuchen's hand and loosened the sword tassel from her wrist.

That hand lingered in the air for a moment, then dropped back into her sleeve with a touch of awkwardness.

Qing Zhouxue gazed at the river. "All my life, I've always listened to you. Whatever Master says, that's what it is. It's just that..."

Perhaps because her Emotion Root was incomplete, Qing Zhouxue held no attachments to worldly things. She could only use her master's wishes and desires as the anchor for her own heart.

Maybe this emotion was pitiable, but only in such moments did she feel she was truly grounded in this world—truly alive, rather than drifting aloft, skimming the surface like a sightseer.

Of course, she could bear all blame for her master. And if her master needed it, she could transform into a blade in this woman's hand, without regrets even unto death.

But if there came a day when Yun Shuchen also shut her heart against her, Qing Zhouxue would find everything utterly devoid of meaning.

She was simply a little weary.

Qing Zhouxue was not one to dredge up old grudges, but now, leaning against the bow with her eyes closed, she recalled many fragments—those times when Yun Shuchen had deftly steered the conversation away. Even what they talked about seemed not to be her choice.

A strange, unfamiliar sensation crept up from the bottom of her heart. It was not exactly pleasant, but at least it was a fragment of the emotion she lacked, carefully picked up and kept.

A long while passed.

"...Back then, I could think of no other way." Yun Shuchen looked at her quietly, her voice floating in the night breeze, scattered at once.

Qing Zhouxue opened her eyes, the hope in her heart faintly stirring.

"Where did you learn of these matters?" Yun Shuchen suddenly asked again, her voice softer now.

In the past, Qing Zhouxue would not have thought much of it and would have simply answered.

But now, her thoughts calmer, she stepped back and observed: knowing Yun Shuchen as she did, her master did not actually want to know—she was just offering a seemingly related opening, the pivot so smooth it did not feel abrupt at all, appearing perfectly natural.

With gentle leading and a tone that grew even softer in the night wind, it was easy to make one speak frankly, to shift one's attention away.

Again, this.

"On the stone wall—there was a guardian beast of the mountain."

Qing Zhouxue's brow furrowed slightly. She gazed at her for a long while, until Yun Shuchen looked away; only then did she follow the lead and answer in a slow voice.

Yun Shuchen had likely guessed as much, so she was not very surprised; her expression showed no change.

Qing Zhouxue's voice was somewhat crisp and cold, and when she spoke in short bursts, it sounded distant and aloof.

Although her disciple was usually quiet, it was rare for the two of them to fall into such a standoff.

A long standoff.

At last, Qing Zhouxue's gaze shifted away. She looked from the moonlight reflected in Yun Shuchen's eyes to the shimmering broken jade on the river's surface. She parted her lips, about to tell her master to rest early—

"...Since you already know everything, why must I repeat it?"

In the profound silence,

Yun Shuchen spoke, her voice trembling slightly.

The boat drifted beneath an overhanging cliff, narrowing, shutting out all light.

Qing Zhouxue was engulfed in pitch darkness, unable to see a thing. In the total blackness, the woman's uneasy breathing became so distinct.

She set her sword aside and reached out, fumbling until she found Yun Shuchen's wrist. Her master, drawing on some inexplicable strength, pulled her forward, and the two of them collided heavily.

Qing Zhouxue was knocked, her chest aching dully. Before she could recover, her master pulled her into a tight embrace. She opened her eyes in surprise, and though she could not see, she felt a warmth trickling onto her shoulder.

In that instant, sound vanished, the wind stilled.

"That's all it was. I wiped out their entire family. Guilty or innocent, I burned them all clean in a single fire."

She tried to steady her voice: "I followed her instructions and played my part for a lifetime, but in the end... in the end, I still failed her expectations. All these years of drifting—I could never live as a demon, and I had no real belonging in the immortal world. So I could only deceive myself... yes, those words—self-deception."

Qing Zhouxue felt moisture on her cheek as well, warm and cool, dampening her skin.

Her master had never cried before her.

It was only because the overhanging rock above had blocked all light, so Qing Zhouxue could not see the extent of her shame, that she let down her guard and shed her pride.

Before she even shed those tears, she had cast a spell to anchor the boat, lest she lose this natural shelter.

Qing Zhouxue was stunned for a long moment. Then she reached up, placed her hand on Yun Shuchen's back, closed her eyes, and held her tighter.

Master... why is she crying?

And what is she afraid of?

Uncertain, she could not decide how to act, so she did not speak rashly.

At last, Yun Shuchen relented. She spoke at length, mostly of old memories. She would speak for a while, then pause; at first her voice quivered, until eventually she could barely produce sound. She clung to Qing Zhouxue tightly, as if she wanted to press her into her very bones.

Yet, from start to finish, she never let out a full sob—she wept only in silence.

In that silence, Qing Zhouxue sensed a kind of self-abandonment.

Gradually, she lost track of what her master was saying—most of it was inaudible.

When her sobbing finally waned, Yun Shuchen was worn out. She leaned against her, voice hoarse, after a long silence murmuring:

"...Qing Zhouxue, I envy you."

If she had said she liked her, or cared for her, Qing Zhouxue would have found it easy to understand. But the word "envy," placed between master and disciple, seemed utterly incongruous. By any measure—cultivation, authority, even the breadth of experience—Yun Shuchen towered far above her.

Yet intuition, a lightning flash of insight.

Through that faint sigh of surrender, Qing Zhouxue vaguely touched upon something.

"A day like this is fine. But it would be even better if you didn't cry next time."

Qing Zhouxue softened her voice as well, speaking lightly: "All I want is for us to be honest with each other; everything else is trivial. I do find it strange, though—those people you killed, whether they were good or bad, had nothing to do with me. Why were you so afraid to tell me?"

"But I—"

Her lips were pressed by Qing Zhouxue's fingers. "No 'but.' Like this time—if you hadn't asked, you would never have known."

A breeze rose, and the boat finally moved again, gliding onward toward the moonlit stretch ahead.

Last night had passed in a blur. The little boat drifted with the current, for what seemed an age, heading perhaps toward some great lake.

No one steered; they let nature take its course.

"It seems we're heading north."

Qing Zhouxue stood at the bow, gauging the current, then stepped back.

Yun Shuchen had spent the night leaning against Qing Zhouxue as she slept, but because of their earlier conversation, she had not rested well. Her dreams contained everything except completeness, and she had awakened with a start several times.

Her face was pale like one just recovering from a serious illness, the rims of her eyes still red, looking utterly beguiling.

Any hard heart that met her would soften like silk.

It seemed she had pushed her too hard yesterday.

In truth, Qing Zhouxue had not expected that this woman, so elegant and brilliant in her eyes, would also hide so much unease in the corners of her heart, like any ordinary person.

Yun Shuchen was often overthinking, entangled in her own roundabout thoughts, preferring to tie herself in knots of speculation rather than ask a single direct question. Those words were indeed hard to pry from her.

Qing Zhouxue disliked guessing. She had been straightforward since childhood—a person of her word.

Someone, apparently embarrassed about the half-night of crying the day before, had been listless ever since the sun rose.

She leaned silently to one side, not uttering a word all day.